Missed Opportunities
by Microsuede Mouse
Summary: Jake's life has been full of opportunities he never took. He's starting to realize he can't let Cassandra be one of them. [cross-posted to AO3]


HI I'M EXCITED FOR SEASON FOUR

Okay let's try to keep this quick:  
1\. This hints at a few of my headcanons, including that Ezekiel was a theatre kid... which I will go into more detail on at a later date  
2\. Related: I am in so deep with this show that for the first time I have created a fandom sideblog. Mostly reblogs rn but there'll be some of my own stuff soon! If you're on tumblr please please come talk to me about these nerds at mouseintheannex. For real, I want to talk to people about this show so much and there is no one in my life who watches it!

Arright that said have some Jassandra fluff, ily

* * *

Jacob Stone had lived a life full of opportunities not taken.

Okay, maybe not 'full of.' But there had been enough. Enough to seem like far too many. When he was young, his mother had encouraged him – when his father wasn't around to hear – to make something of himself. _My clever boy,_ she had told him. _You can be anything you want to be. You should go see the world. Find something you love._ Of course, his father had quashed that idea – his extended family, his hometown, the whole way of life he grew up in quashed that idea. Out here, you work hard. You be a man. You look after the family business.

He wanted to learn, but where he grew up, that wasn't the thing for a boy to do. So he read books at night and hid his grades, fudged his tests. When he got older, in a moment of courage, he applied to schools. _Good_ schools. He was accepted. He could have gotten the arts degree he dreamed of at the Sorbonne or Cambridge. He could've gone, but that would have meant telling his family things that he wasn't ready for them to know, so he stayed.

He was a genius and he had things to tell the world. He could've done it as himself – what were the chances his family and friends would be reading scholarly articles about arts and history, anyway? – but he didn't. He wouldn't risk it, wouldn't risk drawing that connection between his real self and the man who lived and worked in Oklahoma. So for years, he wrote, he published, he gained acclaim and prestige, under seven different pseudonyms in seven different fields of study. He wanted to be all of those imaginary men, but he wasn't quite any of them.

He saved his money. He wanted to leave. He dreamt of travelling the country, the world. Seeing history, seeing heritage, seeing art. Reading the books, meeting the people, absorbing the culture. But he never went more than ten miles from home for more than a day at a time, really. Lived so many years in such a tiny radius. He stayed home and he read about all the places he would never see, all the things he would never do. He could've bought a one-way ticket to just about anywhere and never looked back, but that family, that town – you didn't leave them.

The first time in his life that Jacob Stone ever took an opportunity was with the Library. And even then, it was the second time it had been offered, and it very nearly hadn't been at all. He didn't take the first, what should have been the only, chance he had to be Librarian. Only by the slightest quirk of fate did he get a second shot. And he probably wouldn't have taken it if he hadn't gotten a taste of the job first – and he wouldn't have gotten a taste of the job if someone hadn't been trying to _kill_ him. He realized now how slim the chance of him becoming a Librarian had been, and he was more grateful that he'd taken that chance than he could ever now express. The Library had become the only place he'd ever been at home, and the people there were the only ones who'd ever known who he really was, contradictions and all.

He hadn't really taken any opportunities since then. Little ones, sure. The opportunity to use the Library's resources to further his research. The opportunity to take the Back Door and see cities he never thought he'd see. The opportunity to confide in the people he worked with, the people who were now – though he probably wouldn't say it out loud, at least not yet – more of a family to him than his family had ever been. But none of those things seemed significant in comparison to the opportunity to _become_ a Librarian in the first place.

Jacob Stone was starting to realize there was another opportunity before him that he couldn't afford to miss. Her name was Cassandra Cillian.

He had always found excuses, in his usual fashion. At first it was that he didn't quite trust her. But frankly, she earned that back before long, even if he was stubborn about it. And he had to admit that her reasons for betraying him and the others in the first place had been understandable, even if he'd been stubborn about that, too. How could he know who he'd be willing to betray if he was dying? And then it was that: she was dying. No one could say when, except that it would be too soon. That was a selfish reason, when he thought about it, but that's why he tried not to think about it. And then there were all the girls; she really had a knack with girls. She had so many options. Why would he even be one of them?

One night in London he was in a good mood and she was so sweet and cheerful and he slipped up and asked her to join him for a drink. It didn't have to mean anything, but that didn't mean he didn't feel an embarrassing flutter of excitement in the bottom of his stomach when she agreed with that happy little smile. (He wondered if anyone had ever asked her to go for a casual drink before, other than their group outings, which were naturally open to everyone at the Library. The thought that perhaps no one ever _had_ specifically asked her to hang out made him sad.) But the night had gotten interrupted and then a case had come out of it and he lost his nerve and never asked her for a rain check. Another missed opportunity.

But now, for the first time since long before he knew her, she wasn't dying any more. She had a _future_ again. And before he'd had time to wonder, she'd confided in him that she didn't think she'd see Estrella again. 'I liked her,' she had told him. 'But that was all. It was a connection I made with an understanding soul at a vulnerable time. It was nothing lasting. Like Ezekiel and Cindy – just a one-time thing.' She didn't add _Like you and Mabel,_ she was too tactful for that, but it crossed _his_ mind.

Suddenly everything was quiet and she was _alive_ and, if possible, even more vibrant and vivacious than she had been before, and Jacob knew that this was the opportunity he'd regret missing more than any other in his entire life. Decades he had been living with bitter regret and this would outweigh all of it if he didn't act.

Flynn and Eve were on vacation. Their last attempt had been cut short by something terrible and they were almost reluctant to try again, but Jake and Cassie and Ezekiel had ushered them out the Back Door, promising they'd get in touch if they needed anything (agreeing together that they wouldn't – their Guardian and Librarian _deserved_ that break). The Clippings Book had been quiet for days and even Jenkins was gone, persuaded to go spend a few days with Santa and Gretchen Claus while things were slow enough to afford him the opportunity. The trio of junior Librarians had the Library all to themselves for the rest of the week.

Ezekiel had barely left the theatre the whole time, emerging only to visit the kitchen to restock his snacks. (He didn't know Jake and Cassie knew he'd been watching Broadway bootlegs for the last two days, and they weren't going to tell him – not until the day came that a juicy little tidbit like that would give them the advantage.) Cassandra had been exploring the archives, taking the chance to visit parts of the Library she had never seen and collect books that caught her eye. The stack in her lab was growing day by day, but she'd get through them in no time. Jake had been trying to get ahead on a paper and indulge in some research he hadn't had time to pursue, but he couldn't focus. Just when he finally managed to catch and follow a solid thought, Cassandra would flutter through the Annex again, arms full of books, smile on her face, delivering a snack or an interesting folio she thought he'd like on her way past.

Finally Jake closed his laptop, closed his books, threw down his pen. Taking a candy from the bag she held out to him in offering, he asked, "Can I come with ya? I need a break."

"Of course!" Cassie answered brightly, apparently delighted by the question. "Yesterday I found a whole section of unfinished manuscripts from famous writers in history throughout history. I was going to tell you about it. Do you want to try there?"

He raised his eyebrows. "We have that? Yeah, definitely that's somethin' I wanna see," he said.

"Great! One minute." She stuffed the candy into her sweater pocket and shifted to put the books from under her arm down on the table. "Oh! I don't know if you've seen this, but I thought you'd want to if you hadn't." She held an ancient-looking book out to him.

He took it and put a hand to his head as he read the title. "Aristotle's Poetics… _Book II, Comedy._ We have this? Why didn't I ever think to look for this!?" He looked back up at her in amazement.

Cassandra bounced on the balls of her feet, pleased. "On one hand I'm surprised you didn't know it was here, but on the other, I'm glad I got to be the one to show it to you."

Putting it down gently on the table, Jake rounded the piece of furniture and took her by the arm, leading her toward the door. "Okay, come on, let's do this, I wanna know what other treasures you can sniff out for me," he said with a grin.

Cassandra giggled. "Hopefully I don't let you down."

"You could never let me down, Cassie." He gave her his best Southern Charm-filled smile, and she laughed again. Flirting wasn't a stranger to them. He just wasn't one hundred percent certain that it meant something. Still, she was always receptive, and it felt nice.

She led him by the arm through the winding maze of shelves the Library comprised, and he wondered at her ability to know where she was. Of course he knew she probably had every part of the Library she'd ever seen in a perfect and precise map in her mind, but it still amazed him how easily she memorized and tracked its strange, unintuitive geography. Just as he was becoming really comfortable with the contact of their linked arms, she loosened her grip, and he let her arm fall away from his. "Here we are!" she announced.

Where they stood, the bookshelves were placed close together, so the space they occupied was narrow, though not claustrophobic. The lighting was soft and warm, even cozy. Jacob moved slowly, running his fingers along the spines of the books in front of him. "How do you find so many interestin' things?" he asked her curiously. "When I come down here to the shelves it's like information overload. So much to see I don't know where to look, an' I miss stuff." He glanced back at her.

Cassandra stepped up close by his side, smiling. She put her hand next to his and traced along the books with him, their fingers just touching. "I just go by first impressions," she said quietly, so near to him there was no need to be any louder. "I shut up my brain and let my senses pick. A colour catches my eye, or my fingers find soft leather or smooth wood. Even smell – you know how old books have a smell. There are so many amazing things here, you're bound to find something interesting just by following your instincts that way."

He was watching her intently over his shoulder. "I'd be afraid o' missin' things."

She shrugged, still smiling. "I used to be so accustomed to the idea of missing things, of not having any hope of seeing everything, that it seemed as good an idea as any. I had to pick somehow. Now, I feel like I have so much time ahead of me, missing things seems almost impossible. I have years and years to read these books. I'm sure I'll find everything I need to find, in time."

"Cassie…" Jacob lowered his hand and turned to face her again. "I don't know if I told you how happy I am for ya. To've gotten your life back. An' how happy I am for all of us, not to've lost ya. I can't… I really look forward to spendin' a whole lotta time in this Library with you yet. I don't know what I woulda done… what any of us woulda done if we'd lost ya."

"Thank you, Jake," she said, her eyes shining. "I know you all would have been okay without me. But I'm glad I'm still here, too. I'm so excited to know how much there is ahead of me now. A little scared, too, because I haven't had much of a future for the last half of my life, and now it looks so big, but… not that scared, because that future is here, with you. And the others."

He smiled at her for another moment, then at the floor, not sure how to follow that, but he was glad she looked forward to a future that specifically included him. After a moment he looked back at the bookshelf. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then looked again. This time he let his gaze wander, waiting to see what would draw his eye. Then – over to the right, up high, just at the top of his reach. He reached up and pulled down a slim volume bound in impossibly soft red leather. "Raymond Carver," he murmured. "My favourite."

"Anything interesting?" Cassandra asked, rising up on her toes a little to peek at the pages as he leafed through them.

He started to chuckle. "Love poems. Not quite what he was known for. And frankly… I can see why he didn't finish these." He thumbed the book shut and tapped the covers thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling, smiling just slightly. "You tryin' to tell me somethin', Ray?"

"What would he be trying to tell you?" she asked curiously. When he looked at her again she was bouncing slightly again, hands clasped behind her, looking up at him with a smile and an inquisitive look in her eyes.

He rocked back on his heels for a moment, placing the little book gently on the hip-high ledge of the bookshelf. He regarded her thoughtfully – waiting so patiently for an answer to her question – and couldn't help smiling. It was hard to help smiling around her.

The last words that had caught his eye before he'd closed the unfinished book were _take a chance_.

Jake rocked forwards again and dipped down, scooping his arms around the small of her back and pulling her against him as he kissed her. It was slow and gentle and sweet, and after a second he felt her relax and lift her arms around his neck. After a long moment he drew away, just slightly, leaning his head against hers. "Hey, Cassie," he breathed.

"Hi," she sighed back, and he could hear the uncertainty, the question on her voice. He opened his eyes and saw her looking at him curiously.

He laughed at himself a little. "Sorry. I just, uh… I felt like I was bein' nudged." He still had her pressed up against him, but he squeezed her a little tighter. "I've been thinkin' a lot lately."

"You're always thinking a lot," Cassandra observed.

"I've been thinkin' a lot about you. An' us," he specified. "An' myself, all the things I coulda done an' didn't. An' the more I thought about it the more I didn't want you to be one o' those things."

She laughed, looking down suddenly. "You mean-?"

"No!" he said hurriedly, then laughed at himself again. "I mean, yeah, but not… Cassie, I liked ya from the start, you know that. An' I only ever liked ya more as time went on. An' somewhere along the line…"

"Yeah?" she prompted, biting back a smile.

At the look on her face Jake could only smile more. "I love ya, Cassie. I don't know how it happened. But there's no way around it. I just do."

Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, grinning harder than he'd seen her do in a while. His own smile grew as her arms, thrown loosely over his shoulders, tightened around his neck, pulling him down even closer. Taking it as either a hint or an opportunity, Jake kissed her again. The two of them held each other tightly, unwilling to separate in the slightest now that they were so close.

Once again, the kiss was long and loving, noticeably different from any kiss either of them had ever experienced before. Finally, slowly, they pulled apart, if only an inch or so. Spreading her fingers against the back of his neck and into his hair, Cassandra hummed happily.

"I love you too, Jake," she said softly.

He smiled again, trying to feel every point of contact between them simultaneously and commit it all to memory. "No more missed opportunities, then," he breathed.


End file.
